


Yield

by nikkiRA



Series: Dimilix NSFW Bingo [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Gronder Field Dimitri, Sparring as foreplay, i hate that tag but you know what i mean its pre rodrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: “Yield,” he says, drawing it out, and Felix knows this is the turning point. He needs to either give in, or --Or go wherever Dimitri is going to take him, with his hateful glare and bruising grip on Felix’s wrists. Felix resists the urge to grind against Dimitri’s leg, and he doesn’t know if he hates himself or the boar more.He doesn’t know what he wants. He just knows that hewants.“No,” Felix says.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Dimilix NSFW Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888681
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	Yield

**Author's Note:**

> a brief warning to be safe: this is fully consensual, but felix does mention at one time that he doesn't know if dimitri would stop if he asked and the idea excites him. dimitri definitely WOULD stop if asked, even in this state, but i wanted to make that clear in case it could potentially trigger someone. 
> 
> written for the dimilix nsfw bingo!! this is for training grounds, dimitri's hands, tears, and my free space which i chose face fucking for lmao

It starts in the training grounds. When Felix gets there, late at night, Dimitri is there already, absolutely mutilating a dummy as if it were Edelgard herself. Felix is more than a little unhappy with this turn of events. Felix doesn’t want to be anywhere near Dimitri, but he needs to train. Late at night is the only time he’s been able to train without interruption, without war meetings or Sylvain coming to bug him, or Ingrid coming to complain about Sylvain, or any of the other hundred things that always seemed to need to include him, for some fucking reason. So he started training late at night, when no one was there. 

Or at least no one was  _ supposed  _ to be there. He isn’t happy to see someone else, and he definitely isn’t happy that it’s Dimitri. Felix doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to be near him. He doesn’t trust himself not to kill the wretched man. 

Dimitri looks away at the dummy and at Felix. Felix doesn’t acknowledge him; he isn’t going to let the boar get in the way of his training. He grabs a sword and sets up in the opposite corner from where Dimitri is, throwing himself into the workout and pretending the boar isn’t there, but he can’t help but notice when Dimitri doesn’t start up again. He just crosses his arms and watches Felix. 

Eventually Felix can’t handle it anymore. He turns towards Dimitri and snaps, “What?” Dimitri’s one eye narrows 

“Train with me.” It is not a question, not a request. It’s an order. Felix wants to tell him to fuck off, but he can’t deny that training with Dimitri would be a nice challenge. Dimitri would fight like it was real. It wouldn’t be like training with his friends, or even the professor. And Dimitri was one of the few people who really gave Felix a challenge. 

(The other people were the professor, and Glenn. He’d beat the professor one day soon, but he’d never be able to prove himself to Glenn. Glenn would always be better than him.)

“Fine,” he says. 

Just as he thought, Dimitri doesn’t hold back. He fights Felix like they’re facing each other on the battlefield. It’s vicious; it’s  _ personal.  _ Dimitri doesn’t let up, and Felix feels adrenaline racing through him. He’ll be sore and bruised tomorrow, but he feels alive like this, in this brutal back and forth. There’s a snarl on Dimitri’s face and fire in Felix’s veins. He almost wants to laugh. 

He fights back with everything he has, but Dimitri is bigger, stronger, and angrier than Felix. Felix has his fair share of it, but Dimitri sustains himself on anger. It’s the only emotion he lets himself feel. Felix trains so he can protect the people he loves; Dimitri fights to kill. There is no middle ground. The dead that whisper in his ear do not recognize moderation. 

Dimitri overpowers him. It isn’t just a matter of skill; it’s hard to beat someone who only lives to fight. Dimitri pushes Felix back until he feels the wall at his back, and Dimitri crowds in close, holding the sword he had stolen from Felix to his throat. 

“Yield,” he says. His voice is low and gruff. Felix grits his teeth and glares. The wooden sword probably couldn’t kill him, not easily, at least. Would Dimitri do it? Not likely; he might be an animal, but he’s also a coward. What would he do if Felix didn’t yield?

Felix smirks, because he knows it’ll piss Dimitri off even more. Dimitri growls, more animal than man, and Felix feels the tip of the sword press a little harder into his neck. Dimitri’s body, significantly bigger than Felix’s, has him trapped and unable to move. With the hand not holding the sword, Dimitri grabs Felix by his ponytail and yanks his head back. 

“Yield,” he says again, hand tight in Felix’s hair, and Felix feels unwanted arousal spike through him. He’s disgusted with himself, for this  _ weakness,  _ at the feeling in his stomach caused by the sad excuse of a human in front of him, but all he can focus on is Dimitri’s body pressed against him, and the hand in his hair, and the wild look in Dimitri’s eye. Felix shifts, feels the bite of the blade. He swallows, and he watches as Dimitri's eye tracks the motion. 

“And if I don’t? What are you going to do, boar?” Felix taunts. Something dark passes over Dimitri’s face, and with a narrowed eye, he kicks Felix’s legs apart. A groan rips itself from Felix’s throat despite his best efforts to stop it as Dimitri pushes a muscled thigh against Felix’s rapidly hardening cock. 

Dimitri scoffs, and Felix feels his blood boil. He tries to push Dimitri away, but Dimitri, faster than Felix can follow, drops the sword and pins Felix’s wrists to the wall. He isn’t gentle; Felix feels a twinge in his shoulders as his arms are wrenched back. Dimitri grips Felix’s wrists in one large hand, and Felix is cursing their five inch height difference. With his other hand he grabs Felix by the chin and forces him to look Dimitri in the eye. 

“Yield,” he says, drawing it out, and Felix knows this is the turning point. He needs to either give in, or -- 

Or go wherever Dimitri is going to take him, with his hateful glare and bruising grip on Felix’s wrists. Felix resists the urge to grind against Dimitri’s leg, and he doesn’t know if he hates himself or the boar more. 

He doesn’t know what he wants. He just knows that he  _ wants.  _

“No,” Felix says. Dimitri seems unsure for a moment before he gets himself under control. The hand that was on his chin moves down, instead, and Felix’s breath hitches as Dimitri splays his fingers out around Felix’s throat. His eye is still so, so blue, and it feels wrong, somehow, because Felix can look at him and still see that boy he used to love so much. Felix wishes that Dimitri was a different beast entirely, wishes he wouldn’t have to see the soft prince who loved too much and too kindly in the eye of the beast in front of him. 

Dimitri releases Felix’s wrists and slides his hand back into Felix’s hair, using the grip to push Felix to his knees. Dimitri keeps his hand in Felix’s hair, a tight grip to give him complete control. Felix thinks that Dimitri would stop if he asked, but he can’t be entirely sure, not with the way Dimitri is looking down at him. That uncertainty is almost…  _ exciting.  _ The thought that Dimitri might take out all his anger, all of that darkness inside of him, on Felix, might use him as an outlet, take Felix as his prize after the fight -- Felix shouldn’t be turned on, shouldn’t want it. But he is painfully hard in his pants, and when Dimitri pushes his thumb into Felix’s mouth, he has to close his eyes. He has always had a weakness for Dimitri’s large and calloused hands. He had struggled so much to be gentle, when he was younger, too strong for his own good, and Felix can remember sitting with him as a child, watching him try to hold a quill without snapping it. There is no gentleness now, thumb pressing down on Felix’s tongue. 

“All that vitriol,” Dimitri says. His voice is flat and emotionless, no anger, not even a hint of mocking. Felix hates him. Felix wants him. 

Dimitri never once relinquishes his hold on Felix’s hair as he pulls himself out of his pants. Felix keeps hate in his eyes and opens his mouth. He wants to say something, anything, but it’s hard when he’s on his knees, pinned by Dimitri’s gaze. 

Dimitri rests his cock on Felix’s lower lip but keeps him in place. Shame and desire wash over him. He flicks his tongue out, hating himself but desperate to taste, and loses the useless argument he’d been having with himself by finally working a hand down his pants and wrapping a hand around his cock. 

Dimitri sees this and laughs. “Desperate,” he says, pushing Felix’s head right against the wall. He grabs Felix’s wrists again and pulls them up, pushing them against the wall, keeping them locked in his one handed grip before pushing his cock into Felix’s mouth. Felix gags, choking as Dimitri pulls out, before burying himself in Felix’s throat again in one smooth movement, keeping Felix pinned to the wall with no retreat available; he closes his eyes and tries to relax while the rightful king of Faerghus fucks his throat. Dimitri jerks forward, and Felix’s nose is pressed to coarse blond hair; Dimitri holds him there until Felix feels certain the boar is trying to kill him after all, before Dimitri finally pulls out to let Felix breathe. 

“Fuck,” Dimitri breathes out, the first hint that this is affecting him the same way it is Felix. Drool is dripping down his chin as Dimitri fucks into his mouth again and again. The wall at his back is unrelenting, and Dimitri’s pace never falters. Felix looks up, but Dimitri’s face is covered by his hair. He is still holding Felix’s wrists while his other hand remains in Felix’s hair, keeping his head pushed against the wall, and all Felix can do is kneel there and keep his mouth open, keep himself relaxed, taking breaths through his nose as Dimitri uses him. He is so hard it hurts, so turned on he can’t think straight, and when this is over he’s going to absolutely hate himself but all he can focus on right now is Dimitri’s hand holding tight to his hair and the weight of him on Felix’s tongue, the musky taste of Dimitri leaking out onto his tongue and down his throat. He wants to touch himself so fucking badly, his cock hard and leaking onto the floor, the pressure building and building until Felix thinks he can’t take it, and still Dimitri doesn’t relent.

Felix doesn’t get a lot of warning before Dimitri comes. There are a couple of grunts before he pushes forward as far as he can, deep down Felix’s throat, ignoring the way he chokes and gags, unable to breathe, and when Dimitri comes his cock is so far down that Felix can barely taste it until Dimitri pulls back a bit, letting Felix get much needed air through his nose while Dimitri finishes coming right onto his tongue. Felix does his best to swallow most of it, just because he doesn’t know what else to do with it, but some of it dribbles onto his chin. Dimitri swipes his thumb through it, pushing it back into Felix’s mouth, and he licks it clean obediently. 

Dimitri then pulls him up by his hair and then turns him around, pushing him against the wall face first. “Still not satisfied?” Felix taunts. “You really are an animal.”

Dimitri surprises him then -- he reaches around Felix, pushing his pants down and wrapping a hand around Felix’s cock. He is so worked up and turned on from the assault on his mouth that it only takes a few strokes of Dimitri’s hand before Felix comes, spilling himself all over his king and the wall. 

Dimitri steps away. Felix can’t bring himself to turn around and look at him, busying himself with doing his pants back up, trying to ignore the taste in his mouth and the splattered cum on the wall. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says, and his voice is hoarse as if  _ he  _ was the one who had taken a cock down his throat. Felix takes a breath, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, before he turns to Dimitri. He doesn’t say anything, not entirely certain he wants to hear what his voice sounds like, just glares fiercely and waits for Dimitri to speak. 

For the first time Dimitri looks almost  _ uncertain,  _ more like the boy he used to be instead of the beast who had held Felix’s head still as he brutally fucked his face. Felix almost flinches, still waiting for Dimitri to say something, but all that happens is that one of Dimitri’s hands comes up to wipe away a tear that had escaped Felix’s eye. His thumb is gentle, too gentle, and it burns as Dimitri almost  _ caresses  _ his face.

“Clean yourself up,” Dimitri says hoarsely. He remains there for a few awkward moments before he spins on his heel and leaves, and once he is gone Felix slumps against the wall and lets the rest of the tears he had been holding back fall.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @felixfraldaddy
> 
> i actually had WAY more to this story but i started it like, last year and haven't really touched it so i tweaked it for this lmao


End file.
